


Welcome Him Home

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [71]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Nighttime, POV Loki (Marvel), Protective Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki watches you while you sleep, sometimes, and if you knew how he felt, perhaps you’d never sleep again.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [71]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 11
Kudos: 186





	Welcome Him Home

It seemed to defy the Earthly laws of physics, the way you slept. How could someone like you take up that much space in the bed? 

If he retired to the bedroom at the same time as you, you were, of course, perfectly respectful of his space. You’d take the side which he’d come to think of fondly as “your side”, wait for him to settle in on “his side”, and then you’d, very sweetly, move closer to him so that he could feel you along every inch of his body. With you beside him, and your head on his chest or on his shoulder, he slept more comfortably than maybe he ever had before.

But on the nights when you went to sleep early, because you weren’t feeling well or simply because you were more sleepy than usual, all bets were off. When you fell asleep on him, you barely moved at all. When you slept by yourself, you were almost wild. There were many nights that he’d finally come to join you in bed, only to find you somehow taking up the entire mattress, with your blankets mostly on the floor.

Maybe he liked it a little. His past self would have died before ever admitting something like this, but he thought it was rather precious. There were many nights that he caught himself standing next to the bed while moonlight and street lights spilled in through the window and illuminated your figure. You slept like you were fearless. Most often, you wound up positioned diagonally, with your arms and legs open wide as though your frail mortal body sought to take up as much space as it possibly could. He hated to wake you, but often he had no choice.

Sometimes he...took a few liberties with you. It was hard to ignore the fierce hunger you ignited in him simply by existing. He’d let his hand glide along the curve of your waist, or he’d dip his fingers under the hem of your shirt to stroke your tummy. You were so warm when you slept. Before you, he’d never been particularly interested in warmth, but now he couldn’t get enough. If his touch was too light and ticklish, your brow would furrow and you would mumble some sort of admonition at him, but he always took far too much pleasure in the sweetness of your face to be properly chastised. Sometimes he touched you with a heat in his fingertips, desire spurred on by the way the silvery light caught in your hair. He never took things too far, though. It seemed wrong to do that before you could wake up and look at him with invitation in your face, but he came to like exploring your body with his mouth, pressing tender kisses against each miraculous inch of your skin.

Being with you had done wonders for his self-esteem, but he still couldn’t believe how easily you adapted to having him in your bed. If he joined you after you’d already fallen asleep, and had to rouse you just slightly to make room for himself in the bed, you never startled awake. You never _really_ seemed to wake up at all. He’d slide his arms around you in hopes of moving you over just a bit and you’d sigh in your sleep and try to nuzzle your face against him. Every time. As momentarily-frustrating as that could be when he just wanted to lie down, he never fought his own smile.

He knew that you did not think of him as a monster, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the way, even asleep, you would press your body to his. You didn’t have to be fully conscious to want him near you. Perhaps it was some kind of error in your survival instincts: surely if he were some kind of prehistoric predator, he would have devoured you ages ago. Or perhaps this was an advanced survival tactic: by making yourself so helpless and vulnerable, was your nature simply hoping to charm a predator into protecting you? 

It had certainly worked on _him_. 

The night was hot. Humid. All of your windows were open and an overhead fan spun dizzily above the bed. Neither of you really liked this kind of heat, but you liked the night breezes and hated the idea of going directly from keeping the windows shut and the heat on to keeping the windows shut and the air conditioning on. You’d gone to bed early tonight, mumbling sweet words of affection against his cheek when you bent over him on the couch to kiss him goodnight. When he joined you a little while later, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud, there in the doorway. You had stripped off all of your pyjamas and fallen face-first into bed. He admired the shape of your body, the way your back dipped down just a little before easing into the graceful curve of your bottom. He put aside the desire to touch you there—for now—and walked around to his side. You were using his pillow, and had wrapped your arms around it to clutch it to you even in sleep. Your pillow was abandoned on your own side of the bed. He laughed and stooped a little to touch your cheek. 

You breathed out quickly in something almost like a huff. He’d never tell you this, but you snored a little. When you were fully and truly asleep, your breathing got just a little bit rougher, a little bit louder, and he loved the sound. It told him that you were resting. It told him that you trusted him in your space. It told him that you felt safe. 

He murmured your name in hopes of rousing you a bit. If you weren’t _too_ deeply asleep, you would move over for him sometimes, but tonight you responded with another snore. He felt himself grinning as he slid his arms beneath you. That seemed to do it. You made a noise like a whining hum and helped him move you back to your side of the bed—but you took his pillow with you. Maddening thing. Rather than try to wrest it away from you, he reached over to take yours instead, and then laid himself down beside you. 

Your back was to him, but as soon as he was comfortable, you rolled backwards a little bit so you could feel him against you. He could work with that. He turned to face you and wrapped his arm around your waist, then pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. Your mere existence did things to him that he’d never so much as dreamed about. Even now, it seemed improbable. Impossible. But here he was, at once soaring and perfectly grounded because he had you in his arms. Did he make you feel like this? It seemed like too much to hope for, but some small part of him was sure that he did. You kept coming back to him. You kept seeking him out and holding him close and forgiving him when he did something that should have been unforgivable. 

He drew in a deep breath. He was surrounded by the scent of you. Light, soft, fresh, with your expensive soaps and shampoos, but also warm and earthy with your clean sweat. Perhaps this explained why you stole his pillow. It was hard to imagine that he could smell as sweet as you, but it may have been the only explanation.

It was late. He knew that he should be tired, but tonight sleep seemed far away. He was perfectly content to lie here like this, holding you, looking after you while you slept.


End file.
